Page 89 of His Wife, the Spy
There were times, like today, where she missed beingLady Annabel.She would forever be tied to the Ramsbury name now, whether or not she and Jasper lived together. Unless, of course, he divorced her, which he might do.
She’d always known divorce was possible, even likely, given her reasons for entering the marriage and her ties to the man who wanted to see him hang. It was even more possible now that Claudette was in the house. There was no reason to hide behind a charade, was there?
Pain lanced through her at the thought of all she’d never get to do again, and none of it had anything to do with ball gowns, teas, or grand houses—unless you counted the gardens.
Misery filled the gap that regret had created, but Annabel forced it to flow through her before she wept rivers that would shock even her romantic youngest sister.
Admit it. You fell in love with a man for the best and worst of reasons, and he sat in his room laughing about his poor decisions. You knew this was a possibility.
She had been through worse, and those experiences had taught her how to survive.
Putting one foot in front of the other, she walked down the hall, past the staircase, and to the drawing room. By the time she arrived at the door, her back was straight and her smile was wide.
“Rachel, dearest, Peter is returning to speak with Father. Let’s get some cold cloths for your eyes so he doesn’t second-guess his decision.”
*
“Where the bloodyhell is she?”
Jasper looked at the book in his lap as though it could answer his question. It couldn’t even hold his attention past the first line.
He wasn’t worried. Lawrence and Frederick would look out for her—unless she convinced them to help her make a run for it. Given her state when she’d left, he wouldn’t be surprised. Though more likely she’d send them home without her to avoid witnesses and to get a running start.
Hewasn’tworried. Family matters, he knew, could get complicated. Dressmaker appointments took hours; packing for travel took weeks. Jane and Johanna always ended up sniping over who had more lace on their sleeves, or the larger trunk.
“She’ll be back, and you can talk. She knows the consequences of Claudette staying in Kit’s home alone better than anyone.”
It’s how she got into this marriage in the first place.
Jasper swung his feet over the edge of the mattress and let his feet take his weight, ensuring he wouldn’t fall if he stood. He was lightheaded, true, but the room didn’t spin and his knees stayed firm. All he had to do was not twist.
If he’d been more careful this afternoon, he could have explained things to Annabel while looking her in the eye. He also could have avoided passing out—though at least that had spared him the torture of new stitches.
I don’t wish to marry you.
She’d told him that the day he’d proposed. And, in the name of his mission and his family name, he had convinced her to do it anyway. He’d promised her everything but love. She’d told him she didn’t even expect loyalty. Was it any wonder that she had assumed the worst of him?
How did he begin to convince her—
A muffled scream had him moving toward the door as quickly as he could manage. Once through, another noise from across the hall, a sharp wail that would have proven to Annabel how well their room muffled sound.
Jasper entered Claudette’s room without knocking—it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—and went to her bedside. She was bolt upright, eyes open but unseeing.
“Claudette.” He took her hand. “Très chère, réveille-toi.” French always worked best to rouse her. “Réveille-toi. Tu es en sécurité.” She had quieted, but her stare was still vacant. Her short, panting breaths sounded as though she’d run a foot race in her sleep. “Tout est bien.”
Her shoulders sagged, taking her chin with them. Jasper perched on the edge of the bed and braced himself as she fellagainst him. He kept a steady stream of comforting French platitudes until her breaths grew longer and more even.
“Je suis désolé,” Claudette mumbled. “I had hoped my…cauchemarswould not reappear.”
She said the same thing every time she visited. Nightmares would likely hound her until they found Gareth. Seeing Jasper weak and bloody this afternoon likely hadn’t helped. He shifted, working to relieve the pressure on his stitches so it didn’t happen again. “Would you like to tell me?”
She shook her head. “They are always the same. I can hear him but not find him, and the longer I search, the more desperate he becomes.” She gave a watery sniffle. “I miss him, Jasper.”
They all did. The man’s laugh, his sense of adventure, had been impossible to ignore. “He was a special man.” If they were right, if Collins had taken Gareth from them, the man would pay. One way or another, they would all have peace.
“I hope I did not disturb your wife.” Claudette sat straighter and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her ridiculously frilly nightdress.
Jasper shook his head. “She is still with her family.”
